


drabbles for open_on_sunday

by baudown



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: AO3 1 Million, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baudown/pseuds/baudown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles written for open_on_sunday.  100 words/per.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One He'll Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tiff

  

He leans, scanning the crowd below.

“Choose wisely.” Murmur at his ear, a laugh. “You’ll always remember your first.”

Fingers stroke his neck. The wound is healed, already, but he can feel it. Feels Spike’s touch, all through him.

There, by the door. Tugging anxiously at her too-short skirt.

“Tiffany,” someone calls. “Over here!”

“That one?” Spike asks, and he nods.

 

She blushes, looks away. This handsome, dark-eyed boy, gazing at her as if she’s beautiful.

The coiled snake of hunger in his belly stirs, raises its head.

“Hey, Tiff,” Xander says. He smiles. “Remember me? I’m Alex.”

 

 


	2. And Now I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Treasure

 

He makes jokes.

Peg-legs and parrots. Shiver me timbers and x marks the spot. Argh.

Wincing inwardly, but it can't be helped. A lifelong, ingrained habit.

He avoids his reflection, envying vampires.

Spike stops by, with a bottle. "Yo ho ho," Xander says.

"Enough," Spike snaps. Then, gently: "A battle scar. Beautiful, that. Not a joke."

The patch, pushed away. A thumb ghosts over the hollow space, a strange sensation in its wake.

He sees it, at last, with the lost eye’s phantom vision. Beneath a century of dirt and rubble, shining, like buried treasure.

“Spike,” he breathes. “Your soul.”

 

 


	3. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lead

Perhaps he’d always known where it would lead.

Spike never lied. The fault was his. He’d listened only to his heart.

He’d been in love.

He thinks that it was love.

 

Is he an empty room? Is he a broken clock? Is he an endless need?

Or maybe he’s a wound. Oh, yes -- a wound.

 

A voice like light, like music.

“Hush, now. You’re just hungry, love.”

The wrist pressed to his mouth; he drinks.

Farewell, it’s gone, all gone. Everything ugly forgotten.

Come father, mother, world.

Spike’s face appears, pale and luminous as the moon.

Night beckons.

Xander rises.

 

 


	4. Seeing In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Extinct

Afterward, the earth's orbit shifted. The sky was always black, and therefore harmless.

Humans would be extinct soon. His kind roamed free, gluttonous, indifferent to the future. Not creatures that knew forethought, or restraint.

 

Spike didn't look at the photograph often, fearful of...squandering it, somehow. He saved it for the worst of times, when finding him seemed hopeless, too paralyzed to take another step.

He’d stolen it, long ago, a picture of her. When he looked at it now, he saw Xander.

The earth had shifted, and with it, his heart. Xander’s face lit the way, like a beacon.

 

 


	5. Forfeit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tow

Spike's known vamps who kept pets. Angelus did, once -- a tow-headed virgin, snatched straight from the seminary. Mooned over him, to Darla's disgust, until Dru snapped his neck in a fit of jealous temper.

A weakness, keeping humans. Anyway, it never lasted. Demon's nature, always wanting more. So the humans wound up drained and dead, or worse, turned and tossed away, because afterward, they weren't the same. Not what was wanted, but merely what was left. Nobody needed that sort of dirty reminder hanging about.

Just one last look at his sleeping boy.

Spike's gone before Xander wakes up.

 

 


	6. Unmet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sea

The night it didn’t happen, they were on the beach, chasing a random demon. Over the dunes, down to the shore, into the churning surf. It dissolved there, anticlimactically, a floating green scum.

They were bent double, giggling helplessly, clutching at each other; and suddenly, they were kissing, desire all around them like a fog. Then Harris pulled back, and shook his head, as if rousing himself from a dream.

The memory comes to him, from time to time; a faint, familiar echo in his ears. His heart doesn’t beat, but it bruises. Regret sounds to Spike like the sea.

 

 

 


	7. Enemy/Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Enemy

  

"Not bad," Spike says as the credits roll. "Bit surprised that it's your cuppa tea."

"Um, hello? Aliens? Action? Lou Gossett, Jr.?"

"Love story, innit."

Xander's indignant. "The hell it is!"

"Pair of poofters."

"Enemies," Xander enunciates stubbornly, "who become friends. _Enemy_ Mine."

"Enemy _Mine,_ " Spike replies, shifting emphasis. "Classic, really. Sniping and arguing, 'cause they can't face their feelings. It's called subtext, lackbrain."

There's a pause. Spike looks startled, then vaguely appalled. Xander feels suddenly queasy.

"No, you're right," Spike allows, a hurried concession, his gaze focused on the TV. "Subtext," he mutters, sounding defensive. "Subtext's a funny thing."

 

 


	8. 'Til I'm Gathered Safely In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Accident

An accident, they'd said. But when he finally tracked Spike down (spell, long-distance, courtesy of Willow) -- clearly, every injury had been inflicted with intent. Spike had never looked this bad, not even after Glory. Someone, some very special sadist, had made Spike his pet project.

Xander took him home, bandaged the wounds, spoon-fed him blood. Sat with him through the nightmares; waited for bones to knit. Didn't ask questions, for which Spike seemed grateful.

Funny, how it was always him taking Spike in when he was damaged, or broken.

This time, it felt more like a calling than a curse.

 

 

 


	9. A Twist In The Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Plot/Twist

At first, Spike was just getting back at the Scoobies. He felt Harris watching him; knew what it meant. A smile, a touch, a softly whispered _Xander_ \-- and that was all it took.

It became a pleasant diversion: Harris had an eager mouth, and a perfect arse, and a cock that sprung into life at a glance.

But tonight, Spike's fuming, muttering, pacing. Xander's late, and it's gone dark, and they live on a fucking Hellmouth.

"Brought you an onion blossom." Xander beams, stepping inside.

Spike blinks hard at the bag, and the boy.

And that was all it took.

 

 

 


	10. Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Plot/Twist

Elbows and knees, face mashed into the pillow, and Harris is driving, driving; and Spike's close, very close; and he knows Harris knows, because he's good at this, Harris; surprisingly good. And Harris pulls out, and then hammers back in, giggling, "Once more into the breach!"

And Spike's laughing as he comes, which is brand fucking new, and he hasn't felt anything new in forever. It's different and good and so fucking _sweet_ ; and this is a plot twist he hadn't seen coming.

Spike comes, and he laughs, and he feels himself fall, and he's happy, he's happy, he's happy.

 

 

 


	11. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tradition

It's always with him -- the ache of absence, the phantom limb. He's learned to keep the force of it at bay, but there are times, like this, when the current overtakes him. Sweeping him back, and back, until he's crouching in that street again, a dying man cradled in his arms. (And in the end he _was_ a man, if only as he died). Holding him close, whispering the name he'd never spoken willingly, until that moment. _Sire._

No grave. No stone to honor him. Just the asphalt where he fell. Spike pours the whiskey there, an offer of libation.

 

 

 


	12. And Mondays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Very occasionally, if you pay really close attention, life doesn't suck." -- Joss Whedon

 

 

The rent was due. He was sixty-eight dollars short.

Willow didn't show up for coffee. He called, worried. "That was definite?" she asked.

Karl, the day manager, informed him that HotdogHaven no longer required his services.

They'd planned on meeting for patrol, but Buffy decided she felt like going solo.

 

In the basement, Spike stepped out of the bathroom, hair curling damply from the shower. He was wearing nothing but a pair of clinging, cut-off sweatpants, smiling up at Xander, face beautiful and bright.

" _There_ you are," Spike said.

  

Very occasionally, if you paid really close attention, life didn't suck.

 

 

 


	13. To A Man's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cook

"What're you doing?" Xander asks.

"What's it look like, pillock?" Spike sniffs. "Making beans on toast."

"Yeah, food. People-food. So what for?"

 _For you_ , comes the thought, an unwelcome burst of awareness. Spike grips the counter, staggered by the sudden prospect of longing, and certain disappointment.

"Since when do you cook?" Xander continues, failing to notice anything amiss.

_Since you trusted me enough to stop tying me up._

_Since I realized that stupid means stupidly brave._

_Since the night I dreamed of kissing you._

"Can I have some?" Xander asks.

"Yeah," Spike answers, helpless, resigned. "Just take whatever you want."

 

 

 


	14. In Times Of Joy And Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Placebo (Song Title: I Do)

The pain, the pull, the liquid pulse of pleasure. Right and wrong, yes and no, life and death, distilled and crystallized into a perfect whole.

Each time a little longer, a little deeper, a dance on the edge of a knife. Each time, a little slower to emerge, a little weaker when he does.

Spike's eyes are glassy, skin flushed a borrowed pink. Wet-dog head-shake, and his brow unfurls, fangs receding.

"Good?" Spike asks.

A nod.

Then, softly, "Love me?"

Another.

And lower still, "Hate me?"

"Yes," Xander says, and all of it is true. "Spike, I do, I do."

 

 

 


	15. Parlour Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Vienna Teng (Song title: The Last Snowfall)

It was a party, with children, and cakes, and games. Someone counted to fifty, and they laughed and scurried away.

He hid in the drafty study, behind a pair of damask curtains. Outside, winter's last snow was falling. He stared, strangely mesmerized, forehead pressed to the windowpane. When the clock's chime finally roused him, nearly twenty minutes had passed.

No one had bothered to look for him. He hadn't been missed, at all.

 

"I was six," Spike remembers, forcing a shrug. "Silly, to think of it now."  


Xander moves toward him, arms opening wide. "Found you," he whispers. "You're it."


	16. Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Keep

Harris can't keep his damned mouth shut -- always talking, saying nothing. It's a while before Spike understands why. The boy's begging to be noticed, but terrified of being seen, hurling jokes and jabs like confetti, or grenades. By the time Spike figures it out, he's found better uses for that mouth. Many uses, but especially kissing.

Harris's mouth is made for kissing -- wide and soft, open and eager -- and he loves it, loves to be kissed, sighing gratefully against Spike's lips, face flushed and warm and drunk with pleasure.

Harris is eloquent with kisses, and every silent word means yes.


	17. Tribute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Florence and the Machine (Song title: The Girl With One Eye)

When it came to killing, Angelus had fancied himself an artiste. Always left a signature behind -- a cross etched in flesh, a macabre tableau -- calling cards that read, _Scourge of Europe. ___

Pretentious nonsense, Spike had thought, being more of a meat-and-potatoes kind of bloke, himself. Fists and fangs, a bellyful of blood, and he was content.

But something's been stolen from him; something precious, and beloved. It's Spike who'll be leaving a signature now, to remind them of the man whose life they've taken.

Spike steps over the girl with one eye, the first in a long line to come.


	18. The Lion's Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Just do it

It wore gloves, like a surgeon. Sometimes, it used a surgeon's tools. Sometimes, other things. Its skeletal smile grew wider, the louder it made him scream. "Just do it," he begged, again and again, until he lost the words.

 

He'd gone half-blind. Still, he could see the miracle before him -- an angel, come to offer him peace. Black wings unfurling, and a golden halo, like a crown, upon his head.  


And the angel wept for him, and touched his beating heart, and spoke unto him, saying, "Xander." And the angel held him in gentle arms, and carried him safely home.


	19. Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Under Rug Swept (Alanis Morissette)

If you'd asked him yesterday to name the place he'd least expect to find himself -- well, in bed with Harris would've led the list.

Even more unexpected: it had been bloody brilliant.

So he feels a right prat, sneaking off on the boy, but he'll do what it takes to avoid the Look. The Look that says he's a stain on the bedsheets, the nasty evidence of a monstrous mistake. _Thanks ever so, mate, but I'd best wash that out, before it sets._

But when Harris says _wait_ , the look on his face -- it isn't the Look. Not at all.


	20. Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Silence

Xander hung up, sighing.

“What’s it this time?” Spike asked.

“She --” Xander began, but Spike raised a silencing hand. “Let me guess. She’s drunk and crying ‘cause he didn't come home.”

“No, she's --”

"Drunk and crying ‘cause he _did_ come home.”

“Door number three,” Xander said, shoulders sagging. “DUI. She wants me to post bail."

"Bollocks!" Spike fumed. "You give and you give, but it won't get you what you want from them, pet. Banging your head against a bloody brick wall."

"Ergo, we're two of a kind."

Spike nodded slowly, conceding the point. "Get your wallet, love. I'll drive."


	21. When In Doubt, Make A List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: plus/minus  
> There is a photo that goes with this drabble at my live journal: [TEXT](http://baudown.livejournal.com/14949.html)

Xander studied the list, frowning. It was decidedly unbalanced.

In the minus column:

Uses up hot water, shampoo  
Blood -- doesn't wash mugs, leaves rings, microwave FOUL  
TV -- stolen cable (arrest, jail?), bogarts remote, ~~soccer~~ football boring!!!  
Gross smells -- peroxide, nail polish, cigarettes, blood  
Constant flirting (big ho)  
Evil  
Weirdly possessive  
Annoying  
Stupid British slang  
Bad moods -- like a fucking toxic cloud  
Bad temper -- broken furniture, holes in wall  
Friends (tell them!!!???) -- Willow (wigged?) Giles (disgusted?) Buffy (stakeage?)

In the plus column:

SPIKE

  


Behind him, husky-voiced: "Come to bed, pet."

Xander crumpled the list into a ball.

Pretty much a no-brainer.


	22. When In Doubt, Make A List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linking this to my LJ, because there's a photo.

[TEXT](http://baudown.livejournal.com/14949.html)


	23. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bound

Spike felt it, almost from the start -- that need in the boy, circling, shark-like, just beneath the surface. Bided his time, because that's what was called for -- a lesson he'd learned at the other end of the leash. Spike could be patient, if a thing was worth it, despite what people thought. And it _had_ been worth it, worth every hour of forbearance, to see the boy yield, the euphoric first moment of breaking.

Xander kneels, forehead pressed to Spike's feet, whispering, heartsick, please.

A gift to them both, the anguish, the hope, this body that begs to be bound.


	24. Iterum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble written for the Fandom Snowflake Challenge 2014, but I snuck it in here.

Angel stops abruptly, staring at the smoking rubble.

"I think," he says, breaking three days' silence, "I'm done with humans, for a while."

Spike can understand the sentiment. All of them, gone; and the losses still fresh. Humans are too perishable -- that damned, built-in expiration date. Eternity's an awfully long time to grieve.

It's so new that he forgets, but there it is again -- the terrified thud of his beating heart. "Does that," Spike asks shakily, "include me?"

Angel starts walking. He doesn't look back.

"One exception," he mutters, slowing his pace, until Spike falls in step by his side.


	25. Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: bottle

Vampires can hold their liquor, none better than Spike. A skill acquired of necessity, back in the day.

Angelus liked his drink, and someone to drink with; and William, his fallback companion. Will was flattered, at first -- such an ignorant pup, craving Sire's attention, and acting the fool for a laugh, or a smile. Never quite knowing when tipsy good humor would flare into whiskey-fueled rage.

Even if the prat had made you match him glass for glass, you needed your wits about you then. A lesson learned early, the hard way.

Broken bottle in the gullet.

Good teacher, that.


	26. Inches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ring

 

 

Xander makes a joke. Spike is the only one laughing. Their eyes meet, surprised. It's the first time it happens. It isn't the last.

 

 

Spike wanders by, drink in hand. Xander nods for him to sit. Beneath the bar, their knees bump. Neither pulls away.

 

 

"Don't touch him," Spike says, killingly calm. The words ring out clear as a death knell. Xander's father steps back, fists uncurling.

 

 

Xander thinks about how the lines and curves of Spike's face fit together -- lips, cheekbones, brows. It's a face that's worthy of eternity.

 

 

Their mouths meet, the first kiss. It isn't the last.

 

 


	27. Cleaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: French

Friends come to call, with red-rimmed eyes. Xander would have wanted this -- for them to mourn together -- but Spike's not one to share. His grief is _his_. And Xander isn't here to disappoint.

He locks the door, he shuts his eyes. Look, another vision! Perhaps it's just a conjured dream. Or is it memory?

Did they dance in a ruined garden? Sing lullabies in French? Rise, like spirits, from the ashes? Walk with heroes, arm-in-arm? 

And did he love a dark-eyed boy?

And also: was he loved?

It's only ghosts that live here now. There's no one left to answer.


	28. Unbounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: French

Xander finds the vampire upstairs, doing his prowling routine.

"What's this?" Spike asks.

_This_ is his mother's snow-globe collection. Miniature cities, mementos of all the places she's never been.

Spike shakes one, lightly. White flakes swirl around a tiny Eiffel Tower.

"Paris, pet," he murmurs. "Could go there, someday."

Suddenly, Xander believes it. They could eat snails, and drink wine, and run laughing through cobblestone streets. They could kiss on a bridge, in the light of a foreign moon.

He can have any life that he chooses.

"Someday," he says, and Spike smiles back, as if promised a glittering prize.


	29. A Man Walks Into A Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dance

His hair is longer -- brown, not blonde -- and the coat is nowhere in sight. Still, there's no mistaking him. It's the way he moves: feet flying, hips rolling, head tossing. Xander's never seen him dance before, but he's seen him fight, and it's just the same. Graceful. Joyful. Primal.

Back then, Xander never let it register -- what he felt, sometimes, watching Spike. But lying to himself is a habit long broken.

Spike's eyes are closed, lost in the music, when Xander steps into his space.

"It's you," Spike says, and he takes Xander's hand, and at last, they're dancing together.


	30. Bed's A Bit Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bed
> 
> Set at the end of As You Were, and the title is taken from the script

 

Spike stares helplessly at the wreckage. Where to begin? Haul out the rubble, he reckons. Try to salvage what's left.

Riley _bloody_ Finn, poking his nose in, interfering. They'd been doing just fine, until _he_ showed up. _Better_ than fine, because right before it all went to hell, Buffy had asked him -- had maybe believed him --

That rotten job was killing her, by inches. He'd done it for _her_.

 

She comes to him, such kindness in her face that he's afraid.

She hasn't come to punish him. She's come for something worse.

She's come to say she'll never come again.


	31. Bring On The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: BtVS episode title (Bring on the Night)

He puts it off for as long as he can, but eventually, it's time. Xander asks Spike to make the calls — they’ll want to see him, before it’s too late. A spasm passes over Spike's face, but only for a moment. He nods, leaning over the metal railing of Xander's bed for a brief, close-mouthed kiss. It’s not the way they used to kiss, Xander thinks, but with nostalgia, not regret. He touches Spike’s face, a gesture as familiar as breathing. Spike blinks, slowly — once, twice, again — until the tears are gone. 

Sometimes, Spike manages a smile; but not today.


	32. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dribbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Rescue

Xander pressed two fingers to his lips, as if he'd been burned, instead of kissed.

"Mistletoe," Spike smirked, nonchalantly defiant, gesturing at the offending sprig above. But before Xander managed a snappy comeback, before his mouth had stopped tingling, Spike's expression shifted, like a mask being dropped. It occurred to Xander, then: Spike had more than just two faces. He looked like a man who'd been drowning forever; who'd nearly lost hope that a ship might appear. 

"Could you?" Spike asked, uncertain and heartfelt. _"Would_ you?" 

Xander felt something uncoil inside him. His arm reached toward Spike like a lifeline.


	33. You Don't Bring Me Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Romance

Xander doesn't expect flowers, or love songs, or a blow job the instant he walks through the door. But after fighting demons all night, and pouring concrete all day, is it too much to expect that a certain someone hasn't smashed the remote? Eaten all the pad thai? Polished off what was left of the beer?

He stomps noisily into the bedroom, prepared to give that someone a piece of his mind.

The pillow's been covered with one of Xander's old shirts. Spike is sleeping, his face pressed against it.

The anger evaporates, fleeting as mist. Xander smiles, unexpectedly happy.


	34. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles written for open_on_sunday. 100 words/per.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: promise

Once the fever broke, and he was certain Harris would make it, Spike indulged himself a little. Two days passed in a blissful blur: tucking in blankets, threatening doctors, smoothing back hair from a heated brow. At last, a chance to unleash his longing, yet still have its object remain unaware.

He was bedside, moistening the boy's cracked lips with slivers of ice, when Harris finally woke. "Need you," he rasped. "Don't leave me."

Clearly, the boy was delirious. Didn't know what he'd said, or to whom. 

"Never," Spike whispered, if just to himself. "I promise you, Xander. I'm yours."


End file.
